


New Traditions

by red_lasbelin



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gifts, M/M, Oranges, Romance, cold winter mornings, new couple traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_lasbelin/pseuds/red_lasbelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel and Erestor make new couple traditions for the Winter Solstice celebration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Traditions

A hand on his shoulder woke Erestor from sleep. He resisted, burrowing further underneath the covers. On some subconscious level he thought if he just closed his eyes, he would be left alone. Fate had other plans for him, however, and his covers were slowly peeled away. He growled in warning and opened his eyes to narrow slits.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Glorfindel stood beside Erestor’s side of the bed, alarmingly awake and leaning over him. “It’s tradition, Ery,” he said, tugging at the thick quilt. “Come on, out of bed.”

The bedroom was dark and the air cool, though the chill was taken off the air by the fireplace in the common room. His nest of covers was much warmer. He looked up at Glorfindel suspiciously, the fog of sleep still hazy around him. The details slowly returned to him in the quiet. He pulled the quilt back. “Can’t we do it here? Why do I have to get out of bed?”

“Because you’ll fall asleep again, I don’t trust you to stay awake.” Glorfindel tucked a wild strand of hair behind Erestor’s ear. He must have been out of bed for a while, Erestor decided; his fingers were cool against sleep-warm skin. 

“It’s presents, Glor. When have you known me not to stay awake for presents?” He tried his best sincere look, but the effect was spoiled by a huge yawn. 

Glorfindel laughed and leaned in to kiss him. “Nice try, but I will not be swayed.”

“This time, you mean.” 

“Not this time. My willpower is strong today.” Glorfindel let go of him and left the bedroom, the door open behind him. The promise of light and warmth beckoned Erestor and he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He pulled back the drape and opened the shutter a crack to look outside. It was dark still, the winter sun slow to rise in the mornings, and there was a thick layer of snow over everything. The air was bright and cold and woke him up the rest of the way. He quickly shut it and pulled the drape back, not wanting to lose any more of the warmth. 

The floor was cold beneath his feet and he was grateful for the woven rug as he knelt by the bed. He reached for the low, wide oak chest tucked under the bedframe and pulled it out. Opening the latch, he checked the contents for the gifts he had tucked away inside. It was still a new tradition between the two of them, waking up early on the day of Solstice and exchanging a gift privately before the main celebration in the evening. 

Debating which gift to choose, he finally took out an ash box, the length of his hand, and tall. He put the chest back under the bed, leaving the rest for later that night. He pulled the quilt off the bed, wrapping it around him and left their bedroom. 

Their common room was well-lit with candles and a freshly stoked fire. Glorfindel looked up from where he sat on the thick rug by their fireplace, a wrapped bundle near his feet. The firelight warmed his blond hair, turning it into a deep gold. Erestor took in the sight of him, the fire and the scent of the fresh pine bough across the mantle. When Glorfindel smiled back at him, he decided he didn’t mind being awake and out of bed after all. 

“You made it out of bed, it’s a Solstice miracle!”

Erestor gave him a look. “Careful. You do not have to get any presents this year.” He didn’t sit, resolving to hold out until Glorfindel looked suitably penitent. 

“You have no sense of humour in the morning.” Glorfindel reached for his hand and tugged. Sighing, Erestor sat down, quilt falling into folds around him. He put the box between them. “Well, it was not my idea to do this in the morning. If I recall, you had ample input.”

“It’s part of being a couple – making our own tradition. And morning is symbolic of the rising sun and the return of the light.”  
Erestor shook his head but, against his will, a smile curved the corners of his mouth. “You always win the argument. Well, you have to start. I started first last year.”

Glorfindel gave his wrapped package to Erestor, eyes on his face. “Happy Solstice Day, love.”

Erestor took it from him, eyes going from Glorfindel to the weirdly shaped gift. He frowned, curiosity awakened, and pulled the ribbon to undo the bow. Bow undone, the silky cloth released five round fruits on the floor. 

“Oranges!” Erestor exclaimed delightedly, chasing the orange globes and gathering them into his lap. “Where did you get these? I looked for them everywhere…”

“Gildor had a stash of them – new friends with a trader from Harad, apparently. Didn’t want to give them up, the miser. Finally found a price he was willing to part with them for.” Glorfindel looked pleased with his hard won treasure.

Erestor ran his fingers over the pebbled skin and smelled the peel, rich with oil. Oranges were a fond memory for him from the time he spent in the south, years ago, and rare in Rivendell, even with the trade negotiations. “Oh, Glor…” He looked at the pile on his lap and then back up at Glorfindel.

“Go on, unwrap your gift,” Glorfindel laughed, and Erestor didn’t wait any longer, using his nails to break the skin and unpeel the orange, revealing the fruit underneath. The citrus scent blossomed in the air and his mouth watered. He ate one of the segments, chewing happily. The orange was juicy, not dry like those that had turned up at the market in town just once and gave him hope, never to be seen again. 

He finished three segments before he thought to share, but Glorfindel declined. Licking the juice from his fingers, Erestor pulled himself away from the rest of his orange long enough to give Glorfindel his own present. “Happy Solstice Day, Glor.”

The fire crackled and sparkled behind them, and he ate the rest of his orange, slowly now, watching as Glorfindel opened the box’s latch. Inside the ash box was nestled three little pots, tucked in the box with cloth to hinder shifting. Glorfindel looked puzzled, and Erestor smiled secretively. 

Erestor was struck by how nothing matched the look on Glorfindel’s face when he opened the pots. Finely ground pigment powder was careful collected inside each one, three colors in all: a rich, earthy red, a vibrant blue and a strong yellow. Glorfindel stared at him, mouth slightly open and speechless.

“They’re for making paint,” Erestor provided helpfully.

Glorfindel looked down at his gift, then back at him and carefully set the box aside. Erestor had a split second of worry that he had gotten the gift wrong, even though he’d seen the small stash of painting supplies Glorfindel kept in the closet. He didn’t have long to worry though as Glorfindel reached for him, pulling him close and sending oranges rolling across the floor. He let out an undignified yelp in surprise, but quieted when Glorfindel kissed him soundly.

His mouth tasted of oranges and Glorfindel when the kiss ended and he leaned against Glorfindel, warm and content. “I hoped you would like it.”

“Like it? I love it. I can’t even begin to say how much. How did you know?”

“Instinct?” Erestor offered.

“Damn good instinct there.” Glorfindel said warmly. “All the colors I can make with these...”

Erestor heard the distracted note in his voice, felt the shift of Glorfindel’s muscles against him. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re not playing with them now.”

“No? Why not?”

Erestor leaned back enough to look into clear blue eyes. “Because we’re going to make another new tradition.”

“A new tradition? You don’t think one is enough?” Glorfindel teased. 

“Fine, go play with your paints. I was thinking maybe you could spread me out on this rug and show me how thankful you are for the gift, but I’ll just eat my oranges in peace.”

“Oh, I think we could figure something out.” Glorfindel’s hand slipped around his wrist and Erestor hid a smile. 

The oranges were only remembered later.

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 LOTR Secret Santa exchange. Beta'd by the ever-lovely Keiliss.


End file.
